re,

_Will Prather_, _Hammett Hardy_, _Penn Hargrove_ and _Harry Steger_, of
precious and joyous memory;

_Norman Crozier_, not yet quite emerged from Presbyterianism;

_Eugene Barker_, cynical, solid, unafraid;

_"Cap'en" Duval_, a gentleman of Virginia, sah;

_Ed Miller_, red-headed and royal-hearted;

_Bates MacFarland_, calm and competent without camouflage;

_Jimmie Haven_, who has put 'em over every good day since;

_Charley Johnson_, "the Swede"--the fattest, richest and dearest of the
bunch;

_Edgar Witt_, whose loyal devotion and pertinacious energy built the
"Frat" house;

_Roy Bedichek_, too big for any job he has yet tackled;

_"Curley" Duncan_, who possesses all the virtues of the old time
cattleman and none of the vices of the new;

_Rom Rhome_, the quiet and canny counter of coin;

_Gavin Hunt_, student and lover of all things beautiful;

_Dick Kimball_, the soldier; every inch of him a handsome man;

_Alex_ and _Bruce_ and _Dave_ and _George_ and _"Freshman" Mathis_ and
_Clarence_, the six Freshmen we "took in"; while _Ike MacFarland_,
_Alfred Pierce Ward_, and _Guy_ and _Charlie Witt_ were still in the
process of assimilation,--

To this group of God's good fellows, I dedicate this little book.

No loopholes now are framing
Lean faces, grim and brown,
No more keen eyes are aiming
To bring the redskin down;
But every wind careening
Seems here to breathe a song--
A song of brave careering,
A saga of the strong.

FOREWORD

In collecting, arranging, editing, and preserving the "Songs of the
Cattle Trail and Cow Camp," my friend John Lomax has performed a real
service to American literature and to America. No verse is closer to the
soil than this; none more realistic in the best sense of that
much-abused word; none more truly interprets and expresses a part of our
national life. To understand and appreciate these lyrics one should hear
Mr. Lomax talk about them and sing them; for they were made for the
voice to pronounce and for the ears to hear, rather than for the lamplit
silence of the library. They are as oral as the chants of Vachel
Lindsay; and when one has the pleasure of listening to Mr. Lomax--who
loves these verses and the men who first sang them--one reconstructs in
imagination the appropriate figures and romantic setting.

For nothing is so romantic as life itself. None of our illusions about
life is so romantic as the truth.